There is this character in Greek mythology called Sisyphus, who was sentenced to an eternal punishment that never ends.My version of this punishment would be being made to move house over and over. Nothing beats moving house in Kenya.It is a bit easier here because of dollies, U-haul and other convieniences. But in Kenya it was a whole different kettle of fish.First of all you had to hunt for boxes to put in your belongings.If you didnt know where to get them you had to go to different supermarkets and buy their old boxes,most were either too big or too small.Then you would have to find old newspapers to put in the boxes to protect fragile objects. Don't forget that you had to get hold of transport.So that would mean getting hold of some old run down Bedford lorry that is being held together by dust and grease.You were lucky if you got more then one turn boy to help you out. You would have to do loads of trips with the lorry and cars available to get things to the other house.Let me not forget the furniture!For one reason couches and chairs seem to have been teleported into the living room because it takes twisting and turning these pieces of furniture into next to impossible angles to get them out the doorway, let's not forget that most of this furniture is made of a combination of rock and hardwood and is back breaking to carry. And then there are the dreaded wall units! Have you ever been on the business end of a wall unit?! The last time I had to help move on I am almost took an axe and flame thrower to it! Then people accumulate all sorts of useless heavy junk. The last time I did some heavy moving I had to help a neighbour move.The worst thing is that they kept on postponing the move!So when we were psyched up the move was always postponed. Then on the afternoon that we were bumming is when we were called on. First of all we were moving things from a town house so that meant at one point carrying things down 3 flights of stairs! The old folks had one heavy steel chest in the master bed room on the top floor. We postponed moving it for as long as possible but at the end it sat their looking at us in defiance knowing that we had to deal with it. I firmly believe that the residents of that house had hidden a corpse in that chest and weighed it down with cement blocks because it took 4 of us to move that chest.
Then to add to our suffering after carrying the super heavy couch into the sitting room, the lady of the house insists on us lifting it and placing it down in 4 different positions to see where it looked best. "Ma'am there is this wonderful thing called an imagination," is what I wanted to tell her after the 2nd attempt at dislocating our shoulders. Then came putting the beds back together which was a puzzle but as long as there was no more backbreaking lifting I did not mind.
To add immense insult to injury, the lady of the house who spent the majority of the time directing traffic and the last one hour or placing the utensils in the right place after we had carried the cooker made of pig iron or some other metal that multiplied the effect of gravity in place comes into the sitting room and exclaims, "Aiii, nimechoka sana (My, I'm so tired)!" I was so tired that I couldn't even come back with a sassy comeback. After being part of several moving efforts let's just say I have reduced my material objects to clothes, books, utensils, TV, dvd player, I don't even have the big ass stereo that most dudes have; I use my MP3 player and two speakers for music. So if you ask me to help you move and you see me run for the hills you know where I coming from.
I think that Internet Explorer should be scrapped!The computer I am using on has IE and it keeps on hanging whenever I try to access the KBW feed!So if I haven't commented on your blog it's because I don't know you have posted.Mozilla on the other hand rocks, all the tabs I can open and lots of other neat features!
I was reading this article in the Standard about playing hard to get. Yes to some point it does make sense for women to play hard to get, but on the other hand good men are at a premium and some men don't like playing games. A good friend of mine used to have what he called the kenchic approach to dealing with such situations. Like the rotisserie at a Kenchic restaurant he would have 4 girls or so that he would deal with at the same time and the one that seemed ready would be the one that he would move on with, leaving the others wondering what went wrong as the attention on them would shift.In my case, I will admit that I have a somewhat short attention span with women, I'll chase a woman for sometime but at some point like a bat in the dark a louder sound will get my attention and I'll flit off or just decide to do my own thing. Of course this has led to interesting situations where a chic whom I used to try to get with would be act stand offish during that duration then she would be in shock when those overextened hellos and invitations to dates would disappear and be replaced with cameradrie or just plain indifference. Now the tables would be turned and she would be the one chasing me despite the fact I was no longer interested or in some cases she would become nasty because there are some women who don't believe that a man can turn down their charms. But that is one reason I like being on the bilas train because it makes life so much easier! But another pal of mine put it best about girls who play hard to get and wonder why they can't get a man.Many of them don't go to the extent of getting the man fully interested before playing hard to get, so it's like setting up loads of obstacles on a track ie barbed wire, ring of fire, pit of snakes (yes some women putup such major tests) but there is no-one on the track and the potential runner opts for an easier race instead, leaving your track to wither away and the track owner turning bitter as middle age creeps up on her (how's that for an analogy?). Who ever said matters between men and women are easy? So ladies try to find that fine line between being too reasonable and playing hard to get and let us know how that goes.
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